Frank appeared as if he was going to be sick. After a few seconds, he nodded timidly.
“He’s not looking too good,” Chloe said. “I don’t see him actually pulling the trigger.”
“We’ve been practicing,” I said.
There was a low hum in my brain and a throbbing sensation in the soles of my feet. My skin felt like an electrical charge was pulsating just beneath the surface.
I struggled to keep the grief in check. There would be time enough for that later.
Frank aimed at Boulay. His arm shook.
“Do it,” I said. “Just like we talked about. Avenge your family.”
After a few seconds, he lowered his hand, dropped the gun.
“I can’t, Arlo.” He sobbed. “I just can’t.”
Chloe smiled like she’d just won the lottery.
I picked up my father-in-law’s revolver, aimed at the guy on the floor, Keating.
“That’s what I figured.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Sheriff Quang Marsh stood by his squad car at the top of the escarpment at the south edge of the Sky of Zion property. He was carrying a rifle, an AR15.
Hannah and I sat astride the four-wheeler we’d used to track Silas McPherson from the three homes on the hill where he’d kept prisoner an untold number of children.
Marsh aimed the rifle at my face. “Put your hands up.”
I did as requested. So did Hannah.
Silas was on his knees a few feet away, struggling to catch his breath after climbing to the top of the bluff.
Marsh said, “Did you bring the money?”
Silas nodded, removed the satchel from around his shoulders.
“Open it,” Marsh said.
Silas did so, displaying bundle after bundle of hundred-dollar bills.
“You’re going to let him go?” I asked.
Silas stood. He smiled at me, a look of victory on his face.
I stared at Marsh. “Have you been listening to your radio?”
The sheriff didn’t reply.
“God is on my side, Mr. Baines,” Silas said. “You are part of the unclean. You will never triumph over me.”
I spoke to Marsh. “They’re filming their marriages, selling it on the Internet. Children having sex. That’s where the money comes from.”
Marsh lowered the rifle. He looked at the satchel and then at Hannah and me.
“Lies of the serpent,” Silas said. “We had an arrangement, Sheriff Marsh. I expect you to honor it.”
“The state police are about to storm the compound.” I pointed to Silas. “The only reason they don’t have him yet is because they’re late getting air support. But it’s coming.”
Hannah slid off the back of the four-wheeler. She strode to where Silas stood and slapped his face.
“Where is my niece?” she said.
Silas didn’t react. Marsh watched her like she was on a TV show that was only mildly interesting. He made no move to interfere.
She slapped him again, her face purple with rage.
Silas shoved her to the ground.
Marsh looked at me, a bewildered expression on his face.
“He’s not going to get far,” I said. “Even with your help.”
Silas smiled. “I only have to get across the border, Mr. Baines. We have churches in Mexico.”
I said, “What about your daughter, Sheriff?”
Marsh didn’t say anything.
“Imagine her a prisoner at the compound.” I paused. “Being filmed.”
No one spoke.
“I saw you and your daughter yesterday,” I said. “Standing in the window of your house. She looked like a nice kid.”
“What are you talking about?” Marsh asked. “I don’t even have a house just now. My wife left me. She wanted more than a sheriff’s salary. She and my daughter live in Tyler with her new husband.”
Silas chuckled.
“I live in a back room at the courthouse,” Marsh said. “You’re hallucinating if you think you saw me and my kid together.”
I tried to imagine the scene from yesterday. Everything had been so clear. Marsh with his coffee mug, his daughter standing next to him. The rain falling.
Marsh slung the rifle on his shoulder, preparing to either pick up the satchel or walk away. I didn’t care which. It was out of his reach for easy access, so I pulled the Glock from my waistband, aimed at him.
Marsh said, “Put the gun down, Baines.”
“No.” I tightened my grip.
“You gonna shoot me?” Marsh asked.
I didn’t reply.
“You don’t have it in you,” he said. “I think the forensics people were right. Your father-in-law shot those cops, not you.”
“You’re wrong,” I said.
A gun fired, and everything changed again.
CHAPTER
FIFTY-SEVEN
The smell of bleach came to me at the oddest of times.
In the early hours of the morning when sleep was elusive. At the end of a long day on a bus, my muscles stiff from sitting. When I saw a hard-looking woman who reminded me of Chloe.
Or now, as Silas McPherson fell to the ground dead.
He’d been struck in the head by a bullet from the Glock that I’d given to Hannah.
The look on his face reminded me of the surprised expression in Keating’s eyes when I pulled the trigger and the bullet from Frank’s revolver punched a hole in his forehead in the kitchen of Pirate Red’s.
I shot Chloe and Boulay immediately afterward, single rounds to their temples. Then I wiped my prints from the gun, manhandled a whimpering Frank, and forced him to fire into the wall so that gunshot residue would be found on his hands. The weapon was made from stainless steel, and I pressed his fingers all over the smooth metal, making sure his prints were everywhere.
Marsh jerked his pistol from its holster.
I said, “Put your gun down. Nobody’s gonna be doing any more shooting.”
He aimed at Hannah but stared at Silas’s body, his mouth agape.
I walked over to where Hannah stood. I took the gun away from her and tossed it on the ground.
The stench of bleach filled my nostrils. I remembered washing my hands at the restaurant, using the Clorox I’d found underneath the sink, the cleaning solution removing all traces of gunshot residue from my skin.
Sheriff Marsh holstered his weapon as the buzzard circled overhead, and Hannah Byrne sat on the ground and cried.
“Children?” he said. “They were filming little kids?”
I nodded.
“I didn’t know.” He shook his head. “You have to believe me.”
“I’m tired now, Sheriff. I don’t really care what you did or didn’t know.”
He stared at me for a moment and then pulled a phone from his pocket.
Marsh said he was going to call the state police. He walked a few feet away, cell phone in hand.
As soon as his back was turned, I wiped down all the surfaces of the Glock I’d been carrying and placed the weapon in Silas McPherson’s hand, making sure his fingers touched the metal frame where a good print could be obtained.
Marsh returned as I was finishing up with Silas. He obviously saw what I was doing, but he made no move to stop me.
Then he watched as I wiped down the other weapon and told Hannah not to talk about what had happened without an attorney advising her. She was in a state of near shock but agreed.
I stepped away from the immediate area near Silas’s body.
Marsh stared at me. After a moment, he nodded like he approved.
The next day was a blur. Interviews with various investigators, a walk-through of the compound with Throckmorton, meetings with CPS caseworkers. I told everyone that I didn’t know who had killed McPherson because I hadn’t been looking. Technically true.
Sheriff Quang Marsh never gave a statement. He had disappeared along with the satchel of money soon after the arrival of the state troopers. His room at the courthouse had been emptied, and his whereabouts were currently unknown.
Hannah Byrne lawyered up. Her former employer, sensing a great story, hired a criminal defense attorney out of Dallas to serve as her counsel.
As the scope of the crimes at the compound became clear, the police became less interested in who had been responsible for Silas McPherson’s death and more grateful that the leader of the organization was gone.
Throckmorton, to his credit, told the state and federal authorities that I had been instrumental in uncovering the operation. He also told his superiors that I had provided key details about the Russians who’d been selling the images on the Internet and the now-deceased president of the local bank who’d been handling the money.
For this, I was thankful, and I told him so.
The town of Piedra Springs was soon filled with state police, various federal agents, and more reporters than at a royal wedding.
The hardest work fell to CPS, tasked with finding foster care for the hundreds of children at the compound, most of whom had been abused.
For much of the day, I stood in the shade of a temporary tent by the front entrance of the compound and watched the parade of damaged souls being processed by the state workers.
Molly’s children, Caleb and Mary, were found in a trailer on the back side of the old prison. Boone had been right; they’d returned to what was familiar. The people who lived in the trailer were part of an informal network of church members disillusioned by Silas’s leadership. They were in contact with Boone and from time to time helped people like Molly escape.
There was an aunt in Tulsa who was not part of the church. She’d been notified and was on her way to pick up her niece and nephew and take them to what would hopefully be a better life.
Late in the day, I caught a ride to town with a state trooper and had her drop me off at Boone’s. The old veterinarian was sitting on the front porch with Suzy. I walked across the lawn and sat next to him.
The squad car that brought me left. Several others drove down the street, followed by a couple of unmarked units.
“Lotsa traffic here in Piedra Springs,” Boone said as a greeting.
“Your Crown Victoria is still at the compound,” I said. “They haven’t released any of the cars yet. Sorry about that.”
He shrugged. “No place I need to drive to anytime soon.”
“Where’s your girlfriend?” Suzy asked.
“In her motel room, writing a story about what happened.” I paused. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“She was making goo-goo eyes at you,” Suzy said. “Figured you two were doing the deed.”
“You figured wrong,” I said.
Another unmarked unit drove by.
Boone fanned himself with a copy of the Midland Reporter-Telegram. The front page was a color picture of children being led from the entrance of the compound.
“They’re taking custody of the youngsters here in town, too,” he said.
The neighborhood of apostates, the skinny people. Once the government got its wheels turning, it was hard to stop.
“We’ve been watching it all on the TV.” Boone put down the paper. “That’s a hell of a mess.”
“One way to put it,” I said.
We were silent for a while. Suzy disappeared inside.
“I didn’t know what was going on,” Boone said. “If I did, I would have tried to stop it.”
“How?”
He didn’t reply.
I went inside and got my stuff. I’d spent last night upstairs. Hannah had returned to the Comanche Inn, snagging one of the last rooms.
When I came back out, Boone said, “Where are you going now?”
Suzy appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray of iced tea.
“Not sure,” I said.
“You could stay here.” She put down the tray on a wicker table. “In Piedra Springs.”
“Probably ought to keep moving,” I said.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
The day after the compound fell, I found Hannah at Jimmy and Dale’s.
She was doing an interview with a reporter from one of the networks. They were standing by the dartboard where I’d first seen the two men from the Sky of Zion compound a few days before.
The place was full, about half locals, the rest reporters, various state officials, and hangers-on.
I found an empty spot at the bar. Jimmy brought me a beer without being asked, ignoring several other people clamoring for drinks.
“On the house,” he said.
“Thanks.” I took a sip, opened up Gibbon to kill time until Hannah was free.
“No.” He leaned close. “Thank you. What I hear, it was you who saved this town.”
I shrugged.
A guy who looked like Geraldo Rivera squeezed in next to me and slapped a twenty on the bar, asking if anybody knew how to make a White Russian. Jimmy said he’d try, by golly.
I started reading about the Romans.
The Geraldo look-alike left with his drink, and a few minutes later, Hannah took his place.
She hugged me. “Where have you been?”
I put down the book and told her.
“How many kids are they up to?” she asked.
“A hundred and fifty-three.” I paused. “So far.”
She shook her head. “I have a hard time believing that nobody in town knew what was going on.”
“People see what they want to and ignore the rest. What about your niece?”
“They think she’s in Mexico. I’m headed down there tomorrow; 20/20 is going with me.”
I pointed to the guy in the corner. “Is that Geraldo Rivera?”
She ignored my question. “Why don’t you come with me?”
“Where?”
“To Mexico.”
The crowd got louder as another reporter with a video crew entered the bar.
I shook my head. In my pocket was a ticket for the six fifteen to Lubbock.
“What are you going to do?” she said. “Where are you going to go?”
The noise level ratcheted up another notch. Reporters talking to one another, half the locals trying to be interviewed, the other half trying not to be.
I took a last drink of the beer and picked up my duffel bag. “Let’s go outside.”
Hannah followed me to the exit.
On the street, there was more traffic than all of the days before combined. Across the street at Earl’s Family Restaurant, all the parking spots were taken.
“Are you staying in town?” Hannah asked.
“Leaving in about an hour.” I held up the ticket.
“What’s in Lubbock?”
I shrugged. “I’ll know when I get there.”
“What’s that?” She pointed to an envelope in my hand.
The envelope and the ticket had been in my back pocket.
“I should get to the bus station.”
Neither of us spoke for a few moments.
“Thank you for all your help,” she said. “I think I might be dead by now if it wasn’t for you.”
“The reverse might well be true, too. We made a good team.”
Another period of silence.
“You sure you don’t want to go to Mexico with me? We’r
e taking a chartered plane from Midland tomorrow afternoon.”
I shook my head.
She leaned over and kissed me on the lips. Her lips were soft, her touch pleasant and warm.
She pulled back, head cocked just a little. “Good-bye, then.” She smiled, ran a hand down my cheek. “It was very nice to meet you, Arlo Baines.”
“Good-bye to you, too, Hannah.” I headed toward the bus station.
About halfway there, a block past where Chigger had attacked me, I found a mailbox and dropped the envelope inside.
The envelope contained a card for my son, whose birthday would have been in two weeks. Inside the card was a picture of my family, a snapshot taken several Christmases ago.
The envelope was addressed to my father-in-law at the federal penitentiary in Beaumont.
As long as he was alive, I planned to send him cards on the birthdays of the family members. I wanted him to feel the pain as sharply as I did.
Six people were dead because of what we’d done, three of them utterly innocent.
In the weeks after their deaths, I’d blamed Frank exclusively. Now, with the clarity of time, I realized their fate had been in my hands all along. I could have said no to my father-in-law, but I chose not to.
In the distance, the station came into view.
I walked faster, eager to be on the road.
CAST
Katrina Currow
Hannah Byrne
Tye Ho
Sheriff Quang Marsh
Harry Hunsicker
Bartender
Steve Judkins
Arlo Baines
Stasiya Kuzmina
Molly
The Devil's Country [Kindle in Motion] Page 25